Sherlock crossed his legs and leaned back as he typed on his phone. John looked over his shoulder in the chair to his right. "Case?"
"No," Sherlock said without looking at him.
A woman sitting at a desk across the room from them smiled and beckoned them forward. Sherlock remained glued to his phone as the woman inspected the contents of a folder than John presented to her. "All set, she said, stacking the paper and motioning to the room connected with the waiting room.
A middle-aged woman inside of the room greeted them.
"And are your witnesses here?" The woman said, looking over John's shoulder.
John tilted his head backwards towards Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade who were seating themselves in two chairs behind them. Lestrade looked amused.
"All right, we'll get started then." She smiled. "Oh, will you be wanting to add your own vows, or a song?"
Sherlock's eyebrow shot to the ceiling.
"No, thank you," John said graciously.
They were standing in front of the registrar in the centre of the small room, facing each other. Sherlock slipped his phone into his pocket.
"Are you, John Watson, free lawfully to marry Sherlock Holmes?"
"I am."
"And are you, Sherlock Holmes, free lawfully to marry John Watson?"
"I am." The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned up.
"Now we'll state the contracting words, repeat after me: I, John Watson."
"I, John Watson."
"Take you, Sherlock Holmes."
"Take you, Sherlock Holmes." John was smiling faintly.
"To be my lawfully wedded husband."
"To be my lawfully wedded husband."
"Are you sure?" Lestrade remarked from his chair.
The registrar looked sharply at him, then turned a little uncomfortably back to John and Sherlock.
Sherlock was smirking at John.
The woman glanced over at Lestrade one more time and cleared her throat. "Repeat after me: I, Sherlock Holmes."
"I, Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock's gaze hadn't wavered from John's face once.
"Take you, John Watson."
"Take you, John Watson." Sherlock put some dramatic flair in John's name. John rolled his eyes but his smiled widened for a moment.
"To be my lawfully wedded husband."
"To be my lawfully, wedded, husband."
"Congratulations, gentlemen. We need everyone to sign this here before you can go celebrate."
Mrs. Hudson didn't wait until they were outside the registry to make her grievances known.
"If I would have know I would have at least made something, you'll have to let me make you something-" she shook her head, annoyed. "You said you wanted to eat lunch, I didn't know-"
"We're sorry, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you," John said, contrite.
She sighed and crossed her arms, looking at some point on the sidewalk. "You're coming downstairs for tea this week."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Sherlock said, frowning down at his phone.
She smiled at them, a little exasperated, before she walked to the kerb to hale a cab. Lestrade shook both of their hands heartily.
"Well, didn't expect this from a lunch invite. Still starving, by the way."
Sherlock flipped him a two-pound coin. "On us," he said, deadpan.
Lestrade pocketed the coin and grinned widely. "Really ah, it's a big deal, hope yours turned out better than mine did, though we had our problems at the beginning that we didn't-"
"Thanks for coming," Sherlock broke in. John's sigh was nearly inaudible.
"Yeah, well. Take care of each other." They stood in silence for a moment. "I think I'm getting sort of emotional," Lestrade added, pleased.
Sherlock nodded at him and walked abruptly towards the kerb to wave down a cab. John reached out and shook Lestrade's hand again. "Thanks, really, I know it was-"
"Hurry up, John," Sherlock snapped as he climbed into the car.
John rolled his eyes but Lestrade grinned wider at him. "Your problem now. 'Til death, in fact."
As they arrived at the door John's stomach gurgled.
"So I know you're not hungry," John said, keys jangling as the door opened, "but I actually would like some-uhf!" Sherlock scooped John up and carried him through the door, kicking it shut behind him.
"Sherlock," John snapped, squirming in his grip.
"Does this count as the threshold?" Sherlock held tight against John's struggles. "We'll go into the one upstairs just to be safe."
Sherlock ascended the stairs easily with John in his arms, which annoyed John, as did all other reminders of Sherlock's physical superiority.
Sherlock slipped John's keys out of his hand and opened the second door, letting John slide to the floor as soon as they crossed into the living room.
John went still in surprise when Sherlock bent down and lightly kissed him.
"Pack a bag," Sherlock murmured against his mouth before darting to the hall closet.
"What?"
"Three days should be sufficient," Sherlock said over his shoulder, pulling his travel bag off of the top shelf.
John stared at him, confused. "Where are we going?"
Sherlock didn't answer; he'd already kneeled in front of one of the endless piles of papers on the living room floor and was rifling through it.
"Sherlock," John said, crossing his arms, "I have shifts at the surgery tomorrow and the next day-"
"No you don't." Sherlock had moved on to boxes next to the fire place, picking up objects at random. At random to John, anyway.
"Ahm yes, I do," John said, frowning, "and furthermore-"
"I've already sorted it out with them." Sherlock waved his hand behind him.
John stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock turned around and stared back, blinking.
"Oh, I should mention that no one is frightened that you contracted SARS this time," he added.
"Great," John said sarcastically. Sherlock walked past him and grabbed a scarf off of the coat rack. John sighed. "So what's this case about, then?"
"Not a case," Sherlock said, scanning the books on his shelf.
John's eyes narrowed at him. "What are we doing then?"
"We're going to Dartmoor."
John's stared at Sherlock as he crossed the living room into the kitchen. "Dartmoor." John repeated.
Sherlock compared two different forks and carefully put one into his bag. John walked into the kitchen and leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching Sherlock rifled through the beakers in the cabinet with an odd expression.
"A bit sentimental, isn't it?" he asked, smiling faintly at Sherlock when he turned around.
"Yes," Sherlock said, now scanning the contents of the refrigerator, "I do find myself overcome with sentiment near ethically puzzling genetic experiments."
John looked down, his smiled widening a bit as Sherlock continued his packing.
When Sherlock strode past John on his way back to the living room, John caught him gently on his upper arms. Sherlock reluctantly stopped, folding his bottom lip into his mouth and keeping his gaze focused on a corner of the room.
"Thank you," John said.
Sherlock shrugged at the wall.
"I take for granted that we'll be snooping around Baskerville again."
Sherlock stiffened.
"Could be fun," John said, smirking.
Sherlock looked directly at him before kissing him swiftly, hands gripping the sides of his head tight. "I was going to go only after you were asleep at night."
"Sod that. If you go alone you'll end up pickled next to Abbott and Costello." John ran his hands lightly over Sherlock's arms as he spoke. Sherlock's eyes closed.
"Lestrade is right, you know," he muttered. "You're an idiot. For this."
John pressed his lips together, expression turning serious. "The sex is quite good, though."
Sherlock half-smiled at him.
"Only experiment at Baskerville worth repeating, in my opinion."
Sherlock snorted. "That didn't happen in Baskerville. And your treatment of language is offensive."
"Your treatment of me is offensive, I nearly had a heart attack in that facility. I should drug your coffee this time."
"I didn't drug your coffee."
"You tried."
Sherlock leaned his forehead gently against John's, taking a long, slow breath. "And you just contractually bound yourself to me for the remainder of your life. Or, more statistically likely, until you commence divorce proceedings."
"Oh, I won't make it that easy for you."
Sherlock gripped John's shoulders tight enough to startle him. "Good," he said tightly.
John leaned forward and kissed him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. "I'll need to see a death certificate first," John breathed into his mouth.
Sherlock leaned forward buried his face in John's neck, squeezing him tight around his middle. "I love you." The words were almost inaudible mumbled against the material of John's jumper.
John's arms tightened around Sherlock's neck and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Me too." Sherlock was leaning all of his weight on John's smaller frame.
Sherlock's phone buzzed and John's hand slipped into his coat pocket, holding the phone over Sherlock's shoulder so that he could see the screen. It was a car rental confirmation email. A quick scroll through his other messages and emails revealed a hotel confirmation, as well.
Something prickled in John's throat and he slipped the mobile back into Sherlock's pocket.
"Important?" Sherlock murmured and John shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
Sherlock leaned up and away from him. John felt his grip around his neck slipping. "We both know you're more likely to get bored with me," John blurted.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and smiled a tad condescendingly at him. "Don't be an idiot, John," he said, and turned around to pack his nicotine patches.